Long Dead Choir

kitthornton

 

The harmonies of a long dead choir.
The fragrance of a bloom, extinct a thousand years.
The light from a star, millennia cold.
Last winter's snow.

It was, it is no more.
Its beauty filled a moment
That moment, and a million like it
Gone.

Beauty and memory are poisoned alchemy.
The thick, saccharine venom is wrung from the heart nerve
Nostalgia, a dignified name for the worship of decay.

 

  • Author: kitthornton (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 19th, 2017 23:53
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 16
  • Users favorite of this poem: Jacob Bennett
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